Memory's Bliss
by Dazzling
Summary: An 80 yr old Buffy reflects on how she came to be the last one standing


Author: Dazzling  
Email: glitter_and_glam@hotmail.com  
Disclaimers: I never own anything, LOL.  
Notes: Faith's death is set a year after 'The Gift'. Everything else is relevant to that. Buffy's POV.  
Rating: PG-13  
Reviews and Feedback: C'mon...please?  
  
MEMORY'S BLISS  
  
I lie here, each breath now having to force its way out of my old lungs. At 80, I am the only one left, the solitary person left standing after six and a half decades of demons, vampires, Hellmouth's, Apocalypses, and some things we just couldn't fight.  
  
The others left me one-by-one...some at the hands of a demon or monster, some of illness, others peacefully from age, and perhaps most tragically, one at his own hands.  
  
Faith was the first one of us to go. She died a year after the battle with Glory, doing her duty. I have always found it hard to deal with the fact that strong, stubborn Faith, who seemed unbeatable, could die at the hands of a vampire. I have seen many Slayers in my years, and for all the things she put me through, Faith will always be my favourite.   
  
Anya died next, three years after Faith. She and Xander were married, with a beautiful one-year-old daughter named Kayla Elizabeth. They had been sitting in an open café one day when there was a drive-by shooting. Anya was the only victim, with bullets to her chest. She left this world lying in Xander's arms before the ambulance could reach her. I had seen Xander cry before, and I had seen him hurt, but never anything like what I saw after Anya's death.  
  
Which I guess explains why Xander died when he did. His death was, to me, the most tragic, because he brought it on himself. On the sixth month anniversary of Anya's demise, Xander killed himself with a bullet wound to the chest - in the exact same place that Anya had been shot. I guess the rest of us never realized just how deeply and truly he loved Anya. Even after they were married, we never caught on. They were buried side-by-side, to be together for all eternity. I took care of Kayla until she was old enough to want to move out of Sunnydale - and I don't blame her.  
  
In the next twenty years, all but two of the remaining 'Scoobies' died. Oz was hunted down by a werewolf-pelt collector, and killed on the night of the full moon. Even having never seen him once since he left, the news of his death still gripped me like an iron hand inside my chest. Will and Tara were also killed in battle, while trying to bind a virtually unstoppable demon. They succeeded, but not before the absolute power in the spell turned back on them. I buried the last of my best friends the next day, sprinkling a powder Will had concocted over the grave so that it might never be disturbed by evil again. Wesley, too, was taken down by a demon in L.A while out one night patrolling. Despite all that happened between us, I still cared for him deeply, and learning of his death left a huge hole in my heart. A year later, the most important person left in the world left me. Giles died peacefully, so I suppose I should be grateful for that at least. He went in his sleep, a slight smile on his face, a book of demons still resting in his hands, his glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose. The day I buried him, I truly felt alone.  
  
Spike was staked thirty years ago. He was still fighting the good fight, surprisingly enough. He had been out fighting demons when one came up behind him and did what the demon populus of Sunnydale had been trying to do for years. Spike's ashes rest on my mantle-piece, as a reminder that there was someone out there who still truly cared.  
  
And the last of the gang, Cordy, died four years ago in her sleep. Sometimes, I make-believe that all the gang went the way Cor and Giles did - no pain, no fear. I miss Cordy, ironically. I kept in touch with her as each member of our little club departed. She shared my pain and my sorrow. Her funeral was held here, in her home-town. She had made it as an actress after all, and I was surprised, but not completely awed, at just how many people's lives had been touched by Cor.  
  
As for Angel, I don't know where he is, or what he's doing. I haven't seen him since my mother died, and that was quite a long time ago. I miss him, but I have learned to live without him. Our time together has long passed, and I can only hope that he has as fond a memories of those days as I do.  
  
I can still see them all, though. Anya and Xander's faces on the night they were married; Faith's exhilaration when she was slaying; The look on Will's face when she was told of Oz's death; The way Cor felt about acting, how her eyes would light up; The beauty of Tara's final smile; Wesley's strength as he faced the demon that day, and Giles' everlasting cups of tea. I remember all their laughter and their tears, their triumphs and their failures, their loves and their losses, their lives and their deaths.  
  
That's the curse of being the only one left. It's the PTB's way of making my life even sadder than it is. I stopped being angry with them a long time ago for everything they put me through. Now I only feel sorrow for those I lost, and comfort that I'll soon be with them. That feeling, it's memory's bliss.  
  
FIN  



End file.
